Hi again.
A few weeks ago I got a newsletter delivered to my inbox by
where she asked, “Why write anything?”It got me thinking, as is my wont, and eventually, I found that I couldn’t help but formulate a reply to that question. Here it is.
I write because if I don’t put it down somewhere, it stays here in my head. It (whatever it is) goes round and round inside my small bottle of a brain and grows with each revolution until there’s no room for anything else. Eventually, my head feels like it wants to burst from the pressure of all that’s crammed in there.
These days my mind is full of thoughts on how this story came about. The more I think of it, it feels like this story started as a journalling exercise. Some role model figure, once suggested, to a barely stable teen, that she should write out her feelings as though she were writing to a friend. The principle is, that talking about an issue, and saying it out loud, helps you to process the emotions surrounding it. (Introvert - I own it.)
Through that exercise, I realized that I don’t do ‘letting go.’ I am always afraid that I will forget that one crucial detail, and so I obsess over it until it drives me crazy. But if I can write it out, it makes the thoughts tangible and I have something to come back to if I do forget, so I can stop trying to remember the details. If I write it down I can allow myself to stop thinking about it.
The thing is - I think a lot, about a lot of things.
Around that time, I also came across that proverb about the two wolves that live inside all men that constantly fight for dominance, one good one evil, and the one that wins will be the one you feed… I like this version.
I decided that if I had no choice but to feed my wolves by filling my head with something, it might as well be something positive, or at least interesting. So, I started building a fantasy. I thought about it and thought about it until that was all that was able to fit into my small bottle of a brain, and it felt like I wanted to lose myself in there and never come back - dangerous ground for a barely stable teen.
I guess that makes writing, for me at least, a survival mechanism. It makes room for the embers of wife and mother, which are so much more joyful. 😁
As for the story…
INDEX | Chapter 3 | Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6 | Scene 7 | Scene 8 | Scene 9 | Next Scene → coming soon…
Previously… The guys are invited to do an interrogation at the PG base and receive a hearty welcome. The interrogation doesn’t go as planned and the Ruby Observer, Dennis escapes, with a dramatic flourish.
The next thing I know, I feel peaceful. The air around me is cool and moves gently with rushing feet. The solidity of the ground beneath me is reassuring.
"Logan, Logan for goodness's sake open your eyes." Luke's voice is insistent, snapping me back to reality. I see him kneeling beside me, his forehead creased with worry. I can almost feel his anxiety, on the edge of panic.
I sit up, feeling like I have been kicked in the teeth. Luke breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at me. "Luke, what’s going on?" I ask when the disorientation starts to fade.
"He escaped," the General interjects, kicking his chair flying, his face red with anger. The room is buzzing with activity, soldiers examining the walls meticulously.
"How?" I inquire, puzzled.
"You passed out." the General says mockingly, while Luke shoots him a dagger-like glare.
"He phased. I warned the General." Luke explains wearily, pushing himself up. It must have been a tough break in the connection, he looks exhausted.
"Shouldn't we be going after him?" Cathy demands accusingly as I pick myself up.
"Yes, you warned me!" The General complains at Luke, ignoring his own daughter, "but you did get something."
"Yes," Luke says, his voice filled with bitterness, "I got something. I got that this was all a waste of time."
"I'll be the judge of that..." The General starts to assert, but Luke cuts him off.
"It was a girl. Maggie. He's in love with a girl." Luke says, shaking his head. "That's it."
"A girl?" the General muses, looking confused. Cathy bursts out in hysterical laughter, glaring at everyone in the room, suddenly commanding their attention.
"Seriously?" She says incredulously, "This legendary Ruby Observer that can't be contained except in a radioactive vacuum, came here for a girl? Not some kind of scout for an invasion, or to warn us of impending doom. A girl? And now you 'men' want to argue over whose fault it is he got away?"
"Can we just talk about what happened for a second?" Tom, interjects, stepping into the circle. "He did something to my brother."
"I'm fine." I cut in, but no one seems to notice.
"No, actually poor Logan, just overexerted himself and passed out." Cathy chides, jutting her chin at Tom. He licks his lips, with a downward smile, and shakes his head. I know that gesture. Tom is very close to losing his temper and Luke looks like he can barely keep his feet, he won’t be able to help.
Cathy shouts wildly, accusing Tom of freezing, saying he could have grabbed the prisoner if he had tried, and Luke puts so much faith in me, even though I am obviously weaker than he thinks.
"Look girly, I know what you're on about,” Tom seethes through gritted teeth, “You're using my brother. This whole relationship is just a ploy to get into our home-"
"Excuse me?" She retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You think I'm blind, your interest in the girl is as transparent as glass."
"The girl? You mean your 'cousin'?" Cathy makes air quotation marks mockingly. Tom clenches his jaw again, his presence becoming increasingly menacing.
"Tom, calm down." I step in between him and Cathy, pushing slightly against his chest, urging him to back off.
Cathy whirls around to point her finger at a wobbly Luke, "And you! I thought you were this 'Grand Master McKeen', Telepath-a-la-Grande. Wanna explain how he managed to overpower your control?"
Luke's face contorts in an expression of disdain, but he remains silent. The General watches with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and Tom steps into the middle, pushing me aside to confront Cathy who had been pointing her finger at Luke. She sparks angry now, draws back to throw a punch. Tom, seething with rage, grabs her wrist, forcefully.
I can sense the energy in the air, Tom is on the verge of losing all control. I call out to my brother, trying to diffuse the situation, but he only tightens his fingers on Cathy’s wrist. She quails in his iron grip and the General's smile vanishes, as he realizes just how precarious this situation has become. He gestures to the surrounding soldiers, who quickly ready their weapons.
"McKeen." The General says with a razor's edge in his voice, causing Luke to startle as if he had forgotten the General was even there. There is a pause, everything seems frozen in place, then something shifts in the atmosphere.
Luke calls out to Tom with an uncanny urgency and Tom freezes, his energy just shy of bursting forth. Luke's eyes bore into my brother, exhaustion forgotten for the moment.
“Luke don't.” I plead, and then I feel him round on me as Tom starts to shudder.
The air is charged on all sides. Luke has control of my body now and preventing me from moving to intervene. Tom clears his throat and closes his eyes.
"Luke, please," I beg, forcing my body to relax, resisting the urge to fight him for my autonomy as the seconds pass.
Luke turns back to Tom, inhales deeply. Tom mirrors him, slowly loosening his grip on Cathy's wrist. She wrenches her hand out of his grasp, and falls whimpering into her father’s arms. Tom’s presence subsides, and Luke releases his stranglehold and I flex my limbs as my control returns. Tom drops his hand, cocks his head, livid, while Luke wilts, depleted.
Without looking back, Tom saunters out of the building, his black mood hanging like a cloud around him. I follow a few steps behind, as a medic rushes past us to check Luke out.
I call out to Tom but he ignores me until we reach the tarmac, then he rounds on me, his anger and resentment palpable.
"And you say we have nothing to fear from him?" He sneers, gesturing towards Luke. I look behind me to find that the whole gathering has followed us. Tom looks at me, bitterness dripping off of him. His gaze flits back to the shuttle, then to the sky and I see his plan, sensing his energy rising once more. Our audience hangs back instinctively, unsure of what’s to come.
Tom looks at me with a snarl, then upwards, and then seemingly without warning shoots up into the air leaving behind a cloud of dust and gravel, and a crater in the asphalt.
* * *
Luke corners me in the kitchen. I could tell on the shuttle that he was holding back, but when we walk through the door, he can't take it anymore.
Luke taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to face him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I have some questions," I state unapologetically, bracing myself for whatever he's about to throw at me.
"How did you do it?" He demands, grabbing my arm and I turn round, my back against the edge of the breakfast bar.
"What? Pass out?" I grin, trying to diffuse this unexpected anger.
"Don't get smart with me! I know. I was in his head, remember?" Luke's expression is intense as he stares into my eyes searching. He seems more worried than he should be, and I am torn between confusion and frustration.
"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," I retort, sliding past him to put the kettle on. Frustration won.
"Manorians don't have psychic powers, so how in the universe did you connect emphatically with him?" He gestures wildly, his words coming out in a rush.
"Luke, you'd better stop talking in circles," I snap, feeling my anger simmering. I take a deep breath and turn around to spoon sugar and freeze-dried coffee into two tall mugs while telling myself to calm down.
"Can you tell me what happened?" He asks my back in a gentler tone, and without looking I can just picture the glimmer of concern in his eyes.
"I'm not sure. I think I felt him, the Rubinan. He was so sad, he... did something to me." I stumble, trying to recall the details.
"You connected with him," Luke says earnestly, and I shake my head slowly, clutching the edge of the counter, still struggling to wrap my mind around it.
"Nah, it couldn't have been," I say lightheartedly, adding a little force to the head shake when I turn to look at him, but he keeps staring at me gravely. "You can't be serious." I laugh. "You said it yourself, Manorians don't have psychic abilities!"
"I am not wrong, Logan. You're an empath," he says softly, and suddenly everything clicks into place, leaving me stunned, speechless.
* * *
In all Manorian history, there has only been one known psychic. The Deity. She was a warrior, unmatched in power, who could anticipate her enemies' every move. Legend has it that no one could stand against her, but her incredible powers came at a great cost. She shared the deaths of her enemies, experiencing the moment of their passing through their eyes. In her life as a warrior, she died so many times that it drove her mad and so she chose to end her own life and with it her suffering.
No other Manorian that we know of has ever possessed mentalist abilities. Our father told us that our genetic makeup is specifically geared to resist all psychic influences, which is why I have always been sensitive to Luke's abilities and able to perceive them profoundly where pretty much everyone else has no clue whatsoever.
When Tom and I were little and our Dad was still around, Luke made his initial connection with all of us, so we could talk without talking. It seemed a simple thing, a private communication channel that turned out to be pretty convenient.
After we got the report that our father was killed in action, Luke deepened the connection with our consent. It was a blessing in the early days when everything was still uncertain and we were coming to terms with the loss. The deeper level of our connection is almost like a direct line that allows for a much freer, two-way flow of communication, and at first, that’s all it was.
But once Tom and I, hit puberty, with the hormones and impulse control issues, Luke started helping us "regulate" when the need arose through our mental link. It'll never be comfortable, feeling him take control, but he has only ever used it when necessary, in situations where Tom or I could not anticipate the consequences of our actions. Luke's influence has helped us out of more than a few tight spots, but there has always been an unspoken agreement that he would never take it further or delve deeper into our minds without our consent. And he never has.
The situation tonight with Tom and Cathy was different. Luke had no choice but to step in. If he hadn't done what he did, Tom would have lit up, and the General would have had him shot to protect his daughter. Tom was out of line. Once he’s had time to calm down, he will see that Luke's actions were the only way to diffuse the situation. It prevented Tom from displaying the true extent of his power, for all the PG to see while reassuring the General that Luke can keep us in line, which is an essential component of the delicate peace upon which our life and freedom balance.
If Tom had really wanted to, he could have easily overpowered Luke's mental link and gone right ahead with whatever he planned. Our connection has never been deep enough to allow Luke total control like he has when he works. Luke’s connection with us is influence, not control. It isn’t deep enough for him to be able to take over completely and out of love or respect, that’s never been necessary.
Thanks for reading! I hope you’re enjoying following along with my Bottled Embers!
Next time… Luke and Logan do a deep dive into each other’s memories in order to figure out exactly what happened with Dennis, driving a wedge between the brothers. Logan turns to Elle for comfort, only to discover something even more disturbing.
As always, the easiest way to ensure you don’t miss the next installment is to,
for FREE! Also, I promise I would genuinely LOVE to know what you think so far, please feel free to
or better yet, if you want to show a girl some extra love, and support this project,
Until next time. 👋🏻
Jenny, thank you for this wonderful story, you are a truly talented writer abcs story teller!
You write because you have to. It must come out, one way or another.